Angelbound (33 page)

He inhales a long breath. “I’ve known Lincoln as long as I’ve known you, Myla. I can’t explain how or why. Not yet, anyway.”

First of all, it’s totally annoying that he’s still being secretive.
Tell me already!
But somehow I can’t summon up my typical angst about Mom’s code of silence with everyone in my life. Besides, other topics are far more interesting.

“Did you say Lincoln’s
miserable
?” My face breaks out into a huge smile.

“Yes. And he’s been that way ever since he first set eyes on you.”

I remember Lincoln and I chatting on the bluff overlooking the Gray Sea. “He said something about that once. He saw me fighting Doxy demons.” But he didn’t share any ongoing Myla-related misery. Although, come to think of it, that could explain his whole ‘what a lowly demon you are’ attitude when we first met. Over-compensate much?

Walker nods sagely. “He saw you soon after his arrival in Purgatory. You burst out of a lake, I believe.”

“That’s right. I was fighting Doxy demons from the stables. They were getting too bitey, so I led them to a lake in the woods.” My voice turns low and dreamy. “Water neutralizes their sting.”
And the Prince was there too?
I blink three times,
trying to force myself to process this information. Lincoln’s been thinking about me for months; he’s still thinking about me.

Walker cocks his left eyebrow. “In truth, he’s been a wee bit obsessed with you.”

I was right. We connected. Warmth blossoms through my chest. “No. Way.” My tail pushes his shoulder, slamming him against the wall.

“Careful, Myla.” He grins. “I’m not wearing armor.”

“Eh, you’re way tougher than you look, Walker.” I pace the stone hallway, a combination of excitement and anxiety pulsing through me.
Lincoln’s just as miserable as I am. He cares about me, is even a little bit obsessed with me.

That. Is. So. Cool.

Pausing, I turn to Walker. “This is the best news I’ve had in weeks.” My brow furrows. Something about this doesn’t add up. “Hey, if he’s so into me, why haven’t I heard a peep out of his majesty?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Uh, oh…I know that tone from Walker. He’s about to unload something awful. My body automatically goes into battle stance, bracing for the impact.

Walker inhales a long breath. “The two of you are perfectly matched.” He shakes his head from side to side, frowning.

My stomach constricts. “That’s normally said like it’s a
good
thing.”

Walker’s black eyes fill with sadness and empathy. “You’re from different realms. He’s a Prince. Your fighting skills are critical to the smooth functioning of the Arena.” He points to Armageddon’s seat in the Arena. “And you live in a
realm that’s essentially ruled by the King of Hell. Not a stable situation.” He sighs. “Match or not, the chances of you two having a future together are slim.”

Says you.
I grimace. He’s doing that Walker-thing where he
acts
like he’s answering my question. “Why hasn’t he been in touch?”

Walker eyes me for a long minute, then speaks. “Since you left, Lincoln’s been in non-stop negotiations with the House of Acca. They want war. The Prince is the only person the Earl listens to.”

A cold shiver whirls up my body. Here comes the bad news. “And why’s that?”

Walker folds his arms into his loopy sleeves with an air of finality. “Until you came along, Lincoln and Adair were about to be betrothed.”

Reality slams into me like a fist. What did I
think
was happening with Adair cooing over Lincoln all the time? Choosing him to be angelbound? Not to mention all that weird muscle grabbing. They were getting engaged.

No, that can’t be right.
Shaking my head from side to side, I kick the wall, hard. I remember Adair singing at the Winter feast. She said Lincoln was her love; he almost barfed. “Lincoln doesn’t seem to think he has to marry her.”

“Perhaps he’s right.” Walker frowns. “But there’s far too much stacked against you both. Believe me, I’ve no joy in saying this. You need to move on now, before your feelings grow too deep.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. I kissed the guy once, that’s all.”

Walker’s eyebrows almost jet off his head. “You kissed someone?” His mouth hangs open. “You. Myla Lewis.” He sighs. “I see my warning comes too late.”

I cross my arms over my chest. He needs to calm down. “Look, I appreciate
your playing older brother and all, but you’re worrying about nothing. If Lincoln were really that into me, he’d find a way to get in touch.” Case closed.

Walker slips his hand into the folds of his robe. “He already has.” He sets a silver envelope onto my palm. My name is written on it in black ink.

My heart kicks in my chest as I tear open the letter and pull out a card. It reads ‘Tomorrow, the Ryder mansion ballroom, 4 PM. Dress casually. Lincoln.’ I grin and shake my hips in a little happy dance.

Walker rolls his eyes. “Never play poker, Myla.”

I fix him with a half-frown. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“I’ve never seen you hide an emotion in your life.” He sets his hands back into the folds of his robes and sighs. “Clearly, you already have feelings for Lincoln.”

I tilt my head to one side, considering. The Prince is funny, handsome, smart and kicks serious demon ass. Why shouldn’t I like him? “Maybe I do.” I stick out my tongue at Walker. Nyah.

“Oh, my.” Walker works hard to hide his smile, but I can tell that secretly, he’s totally digging this. “The two of you together are going to be trouble.”

My face breaks out into a wide grin. “I certainly hope so.”

***

Tank stands on the muddy back lawn of High, motioning students closer with his beefy hands. “Everyone, gather around. Class is about to begin.”

I glance at my watch. Once this class is over, I can go to the Ryder mansion for my mystery whatever-it-is with Lincoln. Anxiety burns through my chest.

The Old Timer lurks by our gym teacher’s elbow. His fingers tremble as he
twiddles his half-a-moustache. Cissy and Zeke chat nearby.

The Old Timer smoothes his palms over his receding gray hair, guiding the frizzy strands into a tiny pony tail. “We have special guests today.” He gives his moustache-half an extra-long twirl. “Angel warriors. They’ll arrive any minute.”

My mind empties of all thought except pure joy. I jump up and down. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I’ve never seen angels fight. The entire class turns in my direction, their eyes large and mouths small. Tails stop wagging.

Cissy slides up beside me and whispers in my ear. “You might want to cool it. The other kids are scared of angels. Everyone else is–”

I raise my pointer finger. “I’m
not like
everyone else and I don’t want to
be like
everyone else.”

Cissy chuckles. “I noticed. Okay, jump up and down. Knock yourself out.”

The Old Timer starts blabbing about how to act in front of angels. The other students stand google-eyed and twitchy, hanging on his every word.

I elbow Cissy, trying my best to look super calm and cool. “So, any luck with that research project?”

“You mean finding out what Prince Lincoln wants with you at the Ryder mansion today?”

“That’s the one.”

“Nope. I think Zeke’s parents know, but they won’t say a word.” She glances at her watch. “Class ends in forty minutes. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Two angels appear on a nearby patch of muddy lawn. A man and woman, they’re tall and trim with white-blond hair that hangs straight and loose down their
backs. They have milky skin, pale blue eyes, and large white wings. Their silver armor is delicately carved with runes of protection. The students gasp as the pair steps up to Tank and the Old Timer. I don’t think anyone breathes, let alone talks.

The woman angel is the first to speak. “Good afternoon, everyone. I am Rhiannon and this is Levi. We’re members of the new personal guard for the Angel Verus.”

Verus got an armed guard? That’s never happened before. There must be a new level of danger in Purgatory. That and Armageddon’s strange behavior today at the Arena? Something is very, very wrong.

Levi sets his hands on his hips. “We’re here to show you how to defend yourselves against demons.”

The Old Timer clears his throat. “Excuse me, but this is the Ghoul
Protection
League. I’m sure you’ll teach the students how to
defend ghouls
.” A spasm rolls across his upper lip. “Especially from Papilio demons.” His head jerks. “They assailed my personal possessions. I’ve filed numerous complaint forms with the Oligarchy but they won’t even acknowledge the attack.” He slams his fist into his open palm. “You should show the students how to fight them.” His irises flare scarlet.

I silently whistle. Those Papilio demons really messed with his undead head.

Rhiannon meets the Old Timer’s stare, her irises flaring with blue light. “No. This is defense training, not instructions on revenge.” Righteous power rolls off her in waves.

The Old Timer bows so low, he almost falls over. “Of course, teach whatever
you like.”

Levi rubs his hands together. “We’ll begin with Manus demons.” He raises his palm level before his mouth and breathes onto his skin. His hand magically fills with clear water. He breathes once more. The water bursts into white flame.

“Let’s look at a Manus.” Levi tips his hand over. The burning water pours into the shape of a massive Manus demon, only this one’s clear as glass and encased in white flame.

A few of the students yelp, more inhale sharply. Angels are so freaking cool. I punch the air with my fist.

Rhiannon walks around the demon. “As you can see, Manus are at least six feet tall and almost as wide.” She points to different parts of the demon as she speaks. “Distinguishing marks are powerful arms, yellow tusks, black fur, and short legs. They’re extremely strong and often used for heavy work, such as smashing into buildings or through crowds. Their most vulnerable point is here.” She points right below the rib cage. “A blow to the gut will stun them, giving you time to escape.”

Tank folds his thick arms over his chest. “How should the students fight them?”

“They shouldn’t,” says Rhiannon. “That falls under the category of ‘sacrificing your life for your masters.’ Today, we’re learning defense. Whatever the demon, your best defensive move is to run.” She scans the small group of students. “Any questions?”

Silence.

Levi tilts his head to one side. “Would you like to see more?”

I shoot my hand into the air. “Yes, absolutely.”

A few kids nod.

“Excellent,” says Rhiannon. “Next, we’ll take a look at Armageddon.”

The Old Timer squeaks. “Armageddon is our friend.”

Rhiannon smiles. “Of course, he is.”

I grit my teeth and kick at the muddy turf.
Of course, he isn’t.
I can’t believe someone like Rhiannon has to give lip service to the Old Timer’s stupidity. He invaded Purgatory once. Why wouldn’t he do it again?

Rhiannon moves beside the burning Manus demon, raises her palm and blows across her open hand. More magical water appears, white flame licking across the surface of her skin. Rhiannon tips her hand, the water pours into the shape of the King of Hell. He stands seven feet tall with smooth skin and a gangly body. A blade-like nose divides his long face.

I swallow. Yup, that’s him alright.

Levi walks around the model of Armageddon. “Take a close look, everyone. Armageddon is a greater demon. They’re heartless, rare, and incredibly powerful. Each develops a preferred method of attack. For Armageddon, it’s touch. If he can get his fingers on your bare skin, he’ll pull out your soul.”

I remember the dreamscape where Armageddon turned Senator Adams into a pile of ash. I shiver.

Levi’s jaw sets into a firm line. “Armageddon’s body is invulnerable. Only another greater demon can fight him. Simply put, your best defense is to run. If
you can’t escape, cover up any exposed skin.”

The angels pour more demons from their palms. Other students start asking questions and stop acting terrified. Even Tank and the Old Timer join in. The lawn fills with monsters made of clear water and white flame.

So. Freaking. Cool.

I almost pinch myself. This can’t be real: I’m at school, talking about how demons fight, and no one’s glaring at me like I’m a nut-job. Awesome.

Rhiannon and Levi end the lecture. I watch them leave and check my watch: 3:45 PM.

Unholy moley. Class ran over and I’m late for my mystery encounter with Lincoln. I wave goodbye to Cissy and Zeke, race over to Betsy, and drive off to Upper Purgatory.

It takes at least a million years to putter over to the Ryder mansion. I park the wagon, jog up to the front door, and test the handle. It swings open.

I step inside the reception hall.

“Hello? Anybody here?” I check my watch. Almost 5 o’clock. They must have left. “Hells bells.” Frustration bolts through my arms and legs. My gaze rests on the dainty porcelain statues lining the reception hall’s gilded tables. Damn, I’d love to smash a few of those against the wall. My hands ball into fists.

Voices echo in from the East Wing ballroom.

My fists loosen. Maybe I’m not too late.

With halting steps, I follow the sounds down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, the arched gateway to the ballroom lies open. I peer inside.

Lincoln stands at the center of the ballroom floor, a square of padded mats beneath his feet. He faces Nat, the man who inspected the Furor dragon at the Winter Tournament. The pair run through battle moves with wooden swords. Lincoln wears black knee-length spandex shorts and, well, nothing else. I watch
the play of muscles across his back, arms, and legs. Damn, he looks tasty. My lust demon purrs inside me.

I raise my arm. “Hello!”

Nat pauses and waves. “Hello there!” He has a square face with a round nose, mismatched button eyes, and grizzled chin. Both his barrel-shaped chest and stocky limbs are firm with muscle. Like Lincoln, he wears compression pants, only his are paired with an olive green t-shirt.

With his opponent distracted, Lincoln drops onto his knee, swinging his free leg against Nat’s shins. The elder man falls, hitting the mat face-first with a thud.